I officially don’t own flip flops.

This is a big deal. I live in California. It’s like a state requirement. At any moment the California police are probably going to walk into my house and take me away. I’ll be forced to explain to them that it’s not my fault that I am wearing shoes and socks in 90 degree heat. I will sell out the dog and explain that she has officially chewed up every pair of (expensive) flip flops that I own.  They will arrest both of us. We will end up in the same Women’s Correctional Facility. Emma will make my life hell and I will be labeled a “snitch” for ratting her out. She will chew up all of my bath slippers and I will be forced to shower without flip flops. I hear that’s a no go in prison. I’ve clearly been watching too much Orange is the New Black. Like, whoa. Prison tangent. Normal for a Tuesday.

My point is (if there is one), it totally sucks to wake up on a Monday morning and discover that both your Reef sandals and your husbands Rainbow sandals have been reduced to leathery spit balls. At the rate we are going, I will be shoeless by August. I will be relegated to digging in my closet to find the one pair of forgotten shoes that I can strap onto my feet. Is it going to be my ugg-style cat boots (highly misguided fashion choice) or will it be the slightly furry Birkenstock clogs that I obtained for free by Christmas caroling at the Birkenstock factory in 2001? Both choices sound pretty solid. Help.

One day, in my teaching years, I found myself wearing the aforementioned Birkenstock clogs to class. I was informed by a six year old that it looked like I was wearing a couple of sea otters on my feet. I think I replied with a simple, “They are.”  Gotta keep ’em guessing.

So, what does any of this have to do with smoothies and papayas and sunrises? Nothing I’m sure I can come up with something. Bare with me… Okay, so warm climates call for flip flops (of which, I have none) and warm climates also call for fruity drinks, preferably something that has a chunk of pineapple on the side or has the word sunrise or sex or colada in the title. Is this a little loose? Yes. I’m literally face-palming myself. Let’s see if we can take it a different direction… Dog eats shoes. Gina gets sad. Dog takes a time out. Gina cleans up leathery pieces of chewed up flip flops. Gina gets hungry. She looks in the fridge. There’s a papaya. Sounds tropical. Sounds like something someone with flip flops would be wearing. Too soon? Yes. She goes for it anyways. She shoves a bunch of stuff in a blender. Smoothies help turn things around. It’s a rule. Gina guzzles drinks it down like a lady. It becomes a mini-flip-flop-less-vacation for her taste buds. We could all use one of those. Taste-bud vay-cay. Did I tie it together? You’re shaking your head aren’t you. Did you just skip right on down to the recipe once I started yammering on about prison and shower shoes? Yeah.

Basically, this smoothie is what happens when I want something fruity and slightly exotic but also healthy. You feel healthier knowing that you started your day off with a handful of kale, spinach and some chia seed voodoo. The Greek yogurt is optional, but I like the tanginess and it totally helps satiate you until lunch. You could use almond milk like me, or you could totally go the coconut milk route. Supes trops. And… once you have disgraced the English language by abbreviating “super tropical” I think you know it’s time to bow out.  Yikes. This was rough.

Time to walk the guilty dog. She is running circles around me. Literally. It’s mental.

Hope you enjoy your smoothie. If you could pour one out for our fallen flip flop homies, that would be special. xo

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